


peas

by goodkid



Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: Facials, Hate Sex, M/M, lowkey homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-10-14 08:30:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10532712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodkid/pseuds/goodkid
Summary: there are a lot of reasons joel and porter can't stand to be around each other





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is so old but i needed to post /something/ to inaugurate my new ao3 profiles

joel pushes porter forward on his hands and knees with a palm on the small of his back, bent over and head bowed on the bed in front of joel, facing the hotel side table with the bible laying untouched on it and all. porter bites his lip, then lets his mouth part. his hair falls in front of his face, and he looks up at the ceiling through his eyelashes.

joel fucks into him harshly, and once he gets a rhythm he reaches forward and yanks him up by the hair. he hisses, right into his ear, “somehow, right now, i can kind of stand you.”

porter moans, prettily and in spite of himself, through clenched teeth and closed eyes. he gulps and his throat bulges. he thinks he might cry. he’d probably have a few tasteless, childish comments to make about how joel got so good at gay sex, if he weren’t getting fucked out of his mind right now.

joel releases his grip, and porter lets himself fall onto the cool, white hotel bedspread again, whining. joel thrusts hard and snorts. he’s enjoying this, immensely. he’s enjoying fucking this kid, who not long ago tried to verbally teabag him on twitter. who does porter robinson think he is, porter robinson or something? anyway, the best part is definitely how speechless porter seems to be. he sounds like he might cry from getting fucked so thoroughly. joel grips porter’s hips hard, and then he notices porter’s hands creeping towards his dick, which joel has not even touched this entire time. understandable, yet unacceptable. joel tsks.

he grabs porter’s arms and holds them behind his back, forcing him to effectively bury his face into the covers.

he laughs, “nuh uh, asshole. you’re gonna cum on my cock, and that’s it.” joel assures porter, soothingly. there’s something in his voice, some evil edge. porter mouths at the soft blankets.

“oh, but you like that, yeah? that’s what you want? this the kind of attention you’re seeking with that immature bullshit i always see you involved with?”

porter doesn’t say anything coherent. he’s not even worried about touching himself anymore at this point, he’s not really worried about anything. he’s definitely getting off on joel being mean to him. this is so different from internet fighting, he thinks. for a second he considers trying to focus on how fucked up that is. just for a second. but after that passes, his mind clouds again and he lets the delight engulf him. his bangs stick to his forehead when he makes himself look up.

joel absentmindedly, lazily hums, then sighs happily. he decides to drop porter’s arms so he can have more leverage. he grabs porter’s hips, long fingers digging into the soft skin there. porter feels like he’s definitely gonna cum soon.

“y-you know what i’ve heard? i’ve heard people say we beef because we’re like–” joel pauses, “like, alike, y’know?”

porter moans. he feels the heat swelling up, ready to burst.

“but i _really_ resent that statement--”

porter does not hear the rest of the insult, because he is too preoccupied with his orgasm. his elbows buckle and he moans into the bedspread for a long time, completely blissed out. completely fucked out.

joel pulls out and flips porter over. he kneels over him, and strokes his own cock until he comes, finishing on porter’s face. porter barely processes this.


End file.
